The End of the Matter
by arin1
Summary: The story of a psychic healer who is watching a beloved relative die...and can't help her. Please read and review if you haven't already. Ch. 4, 5, & 6 (the final chapter)recently uploaded.
1. The End of the Matter

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Marvel owns the X-Men in all their incarnations. I am makingno money off of this story. I am a poor college kid…please Marvel guys…don't sue me!

By the way: I do own Maya. She's mine all mine!!!

About the story: This is, like many stories, set in Evolution. It introduces my "created" character, Michelle Chen: also known as Maya.

The premise: This story gets into the mind and emotions of a psychic healer and empath who is watching a beloved relative die…and can't heal her.

Warning: this is my first fanfic…yep, I'm a fanfic virgin…please be gentle with me. Also, it jumps in time frame, so bear with it…I'll try to make the time changes easy to follow. 

When I use these symbols it means either telepathic thought, or it encases a word with special meaning like see or feel, which refers to either Sight or Empathy.

Are we ready? Let's go to New York, shall we?

The End of the matter

_It shouldn't be this way_, Michelle Chen thought to herself as she surveyed the hospital room with weary eyes.

# Not like this…It shouldn't end this way…

_ _

The hiss of the oxygen machine, the beeping of the heart monitor, the slow scroll of the ECG threads, all of these things filled the hospital room, but Maya didn't notice them. She didn't need to. She knew, deep down inside, what was happening without needing to check the high-tech equipment. The answers were as clear to her as they were to the various doctors, nurses, and techs that came into the room at odd moments throughout the day. They needed validation from a machine, concrete answers, proof, something that Michelle "Maya" Chen would never need. Deep down inside, she just knew…

Her grandmother was dying…

She inhaled deeply and the sharp acrid smell of antiseptic filled her nostrils, bringing her back to the present. She could hear the heart monitor beeping irregularly, and she thought for a moment, frowning, her weary mind trying to remember the medical term for her grandmother's condition…

Bradycardiac Arrhythmia…that's what the doctor called it. A fancy medical term for "your grandmother's heartbeat is slow and irregular and there's not much we can do about it, so basically she's screwed".

It didn't look good, they had all said. "They" being the team of doctors and cardiac specialists who had been monitoring her grandmother for the last three days. They had tried to spare her feelings, thinking she was just an ordinary 16 year- old kid. Still, they all said that it was a bad situation. Short of a transplant or a miracle, there was nothing they could do, and a transplant at her age was not only ridiculous, it was dangerous. She was a 73 year-old woman whose heart was, quite literally, failing her. Saril Villovich had already had one heart attack three months ago, and now she had inflammation around the heart that was causing it to slow and weaken.

Maya knew without really needing to know. She didn't need to look at the monitors or medical chart. 

She could feel it…

In _her_ heart…and in her soul…

Her grandmother was dying…and it wouldn't be long. The flame of her life, of her very soul, was beginning to flicker and wane. It wouldn't be long…

She blinked back hot, angry tears and thought:

# It shouldn't be this way…

_ _

A transplant or a miracle…

She couldn't provide the transplant…

She _could _provide the miracle.

If only her grandmother would let her

# It shouldn't be this way…

Three months ago:

"Oh you are _so_ dead!" The sound of laughter came from the training field outside the ornate mansion in upstate New York. On the field, eight students were trying to play a game that loosely resembled football…and failing miserably. The liberal interpretation of the rules were making for some very interesting variations in the game, and the four people watching the "training exercise" were having a difficult time even telling who was on which team, which was the current topic of discussion on the sidelines:

"I'm telling you, Logan…Jean and Kitty are on the red team with Scott and Evan. Kurt, Bobby, Warren and Alison are on the blue team."

"Ya got it all wrong, McCoy! Ali and the Elf are on the team with Pretty-Boy and Slim. It's Frosty, Red, Spyke, and the Half-Pint on the other team."

"So which team is "red" and which team is "blue", my friend?" replied Henry "Hank" McCoy with a half-smile.

"Ya got me, bub. Hell, I even lost track of the score after the first quarter..."

The two men turned to the third observer, Professor Charles Xavier, who simply shrugged and said, "Does it really matter? They are having fun _and_ learning to use their abilities at the same time. Which team wins or loses does not matter in the end. What do you think, Michelle?"

The three men turned to the fourth observer, the mutant girl known as Michelle Chen, codenamed "Maya" by her teammates. A slight, exotic young woman of Chinese and Romanian descent, Maya was here to learn to control her powers like all of the other students, and had been doing so for nearly 6 months at this point.

Maya hesitated for a moment, and then said thoughtfully, "I agree, Professor, it's not about who wins or loses, but rather how much they learn in the process that is important." She gave a crooked little half-grin and said, "By the way, I've also lost track of the score."

They all laughed and turned their attention back on the game. Out on the field, the red team had gained possession of the ball and was trying to make the most of the situation. Jean Grey threw it to Scott Summers, who managed to run a full 10 yards before he suddenly lost his balance. "What the…?" said Hank McCoy, momentarily perplexed by the turn of events. Then he started chuckling as he realized _why_ Scott had lost his balance. 

"Not to worry, Scott" he called to the young man that was trying to pick himself off the ground, to no avail." I believe your feet will unthaw in a matter of moments. Am I right, Robert?"

Bobby Drake, known to his teammates as "Iceman" for his ability to create and form ice particles, grinned and gave the thumbs up sign. "Don't worry, Fearless, you'll be fine in a few…"

A few moments passed while Scott's feet thawed out, and then the training resumed in earnest. The four observers on the sideline occasionally picked out points of interest to one another, each one mentally taking notes for the post-training meeting that would follow the game. For the most part, though, they remained silent and simply watched. Maya enjoyed these sessions as much as she enjoyed her own training exercises, both physical and mental, solo and group. She genuinely liked all of her teammates, and had come to cherish her time here at the Institute. All of the students lived here, and they all attended Bayville High School, which was a short, but safe, distance away from the school. As it was, she was the "new kid", though most of the other students and adults at the mansion had a very difficult time describing her as a "child". Her parents had died when she was twelve years old, and it had made her a bit of an "old soul". She was serious, disciplined, and very much in control of herself and her emotions.Occasionally, she was _too_ serious, which got her a liberal amount of teasing from her friends at the Institute.

_"Mischa, liebchen, you are too serious. Lighten up for once in your life!"_ was the usual plea from Kurt Wagner, one of her closest friends…actually, he was more like a cosmic brother to her than anything. He and Bobby were always trying stupid stuff, pulling silly pranks and practical jokes to make her laugh.

The remarkable thing is, they almost always succeed. Now if only Kurt's exuberantly cheerful nature would make an impression on Kitty…

Kitty Pryde was a cute, perky freshman…and Kurt was madly in love with her. The problem was, she just didn't see it.

_ _

She thinks he's childish and annoying, and not at all her type. The poor guy has been walking around with his heart on his sleeve for months, and she just sees him as a friend.She doesn't realize how perfect he would be for her…

/Maya, pay attention, please. You are not focusing on the task at hand…/

_ _

# Shit…busted by the Professor again. So much for focus and discipline…

She turned her focus from inner thought to outer consciousness, and gave an apologetic shrug at the Professor. "Sorry…you lost me for a second."

"No need to apologize, Maya, it happens to the best of us. Ah, It looks like Kitty has the ball. I wonder if she will be intercepted…"

Logan interjected, "Looks like Ali is going to give it the old college try. Let's see if she can get her off guard."

Alison Blair, aka "Dazzler", threw a blast of bright light Kitty's way, but the slender brunette just closed her eyes and kept running. She was almost at the endzone when-

**!BAMF!**

-she was knocked to the ground by something slight, furry…and laughing.

"Kurt! You weasel! I am _so _going to pay you back for that!"

"Anytime, frauline, you go right on ahead…"

Kurt Wagner, the "fuzzy elf", grinned rakishly and shook a long lock of indigo blue hair out of his eyes. "I would welcome a payback from you any day!"

Maya, still on the sidelines, chuckled quietly to herself and shook her head…

Uh huh, Kurt, and next time why don't you just beat her over the head with a brick? She has to see how much you like her after that remark!

_ _

Then again, this was Kitty…

Out on the field, Kitty was mock glaring at Kurt, who was picking himself up off the ground…and smiling.

"Sorry, Katchen", said the puckish young mutant." I couldn't very well let your team win, could I?"

"Okay, I'll buy that… So like, are you going to give me a hand here, or what?"

Kurt smiled even wider, held out his hands, and proceeded to give a perfect golf clap, which got everybody laughing, Kitty included.

Ah-ha! Score one for the fuzzy elf! Maybe we won't have to hit her over the head with a brick after all…

_ _

Then again…

The professor called it a session, and the students all began to make their wayto the mansion.

"Man, Kurt, that was a great flying tackle," said Bobby with a mischievous grin, "You totally nailed her!"

Oh crap, leave it to Bobby to say the most inappropriate thing at the worst possible time…

Kurt started blushing furiously and looked out of the corner of his eye to see if Kitty had heard that last remark of Bobby's.

By the look of shock and embarrassment on her face, she had.

Oh double crap, thanks Bobby…nothing like a little sexual innuendo to make life difficult for Kurt. 

Bobby had an unfortunate tendency to stick his foot in his mouth on an almost constant basis. He was a nice enough kid, had a wicked sense of humor, and was actually one of Kurt's best friends. Normally, Michelle found him to be quite entertaining, if a bit spastic, and if you put him together with Kurt it was no contest. They had everyone rolling in minutes. But…

_He doesn't get it. He doesn't see how much Kurt wants to impress her, how much he wants her to like him. He thinks of everything as a big joke. Maybe I should hit him over the head with a brick! God give me the strength to deal with clueless adolescent males…_

Maya took a look at the developing situation…Kurt and Kitty both looked like they wanted to disappear, the other students weren't saying anything, the adults were up ahead, and were completely unaware, and Bobby was, true to form, babbling on aimlessly…

Okay, time to do some damage control before Kurt teleports into a hole…or a tree. Unfortunately, that means shutting Bobby up. Why, oh why, do I get the feeling that I'm going to pay for this later?

"Uh Bobby?"

"…and the part where you just came flying out of…"

"Bobby!"

"…nowhere and just completely…"

"BOBBY!!!"

"Huh?"

"Bobby, we were all there. It was a tactical maneuver, but we don't need the play by play, alright?"

"Uh okay…but you don't want to hear about…"

"No"

"Oh…um…okay. I'll, uh, shut up now."

"Thank you, Bobby."

"Uhhh…you're welcome…I think." Bobby had the "wounded puppy" look on his face.

Damn…now I 've gone and offended him. I knew I was going to pay for this…I'll have to smooth things over with him later or he'll be sulking for a week…Now to take care of Kitty…

She focused inward and "aimed" a thought at Jean, who, like the Professor, was a Telepath.

/Hey Jean, do you think you could talk to Kitty? /

Jean's eyes widened, and she silently nodded "yes" in Maya's direction, and then moved up ahead to talk to Kitty, who was walking with her head down, still blushing furiously. Scott, taking a cue, from Jean, went over by Kurt and started talking to him quietly. Maya sighed, and reached with her mind toward the other kids…

Well…Jean's getting Kitty smoothed over…I'm getting some calmer emotional vibes from her now. She doesn't think Kurt meant anything by tackling her, and she's not angry with him…just embarrassed. Kurt is just embarrassed, and afraid that Kitty will think he was trying to put the moves on her, which is not his style…he's more into verbal flirting. They'll talk it over later, I think, and everything will be fine…now for Bobby and the rest of the team. The other kids are fine…normal teenage emotions. Bobby is, as I suspect, feeling like a hurt puppy. The "I did something bad and got yelled at for it" vibe is unmistakable. Damn…

Yeah, I'm going to have to talk to him…smooth things over…

She moved over by Bobby, touched his arm, and said sotto voce, "We'll talk later, okay? I'm not mad at you. After my meeting with the Professor, all right?"

His eyes widened and he nodded "okay".

Always tie up your loose ends, that's what Gram always says. Don't leave anyone hurting. Do what you can to help those in need. That's what makes a good Empath. God, sometimes I wish I didn't have to "feel" anything at all…

She had often wondered over the years what it would be like to not have empathy, the ability to literally "feel" the emotions of others. It made her feel like a psychic peeping tom, always "knowing" what people were feeling. Empathy wasn't her mutant talent, neither was Precognition or Sight, two of her other talents that occasionally popped up at odd moments. She'd had those three abilities for nearly 6 years now. The professor had determined that she had inherited them from her mother, who was one of the Rom, a "gypsy". Her mutant talent, inherited from her father's side of the family, had manifested some 6 months ago, and was really quite extraordinary…

She was a psychic, or "psi", healer…

She could heal virtually anybody by touch, and within limits, heal any injury or affliction. The only drawbacks were that the gift could only work on a relatively new injury, and that she had to use direct physical contact, skin-on-skin touch, to heal properly.

Which pretty much counts Rogue out…so much for the almighty infallible healer. And I can't restore the Professor's ability to walk…he's been like that too long for me to do anything. Other than that…

She could perform miracles…

The present

Michelle sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. The plastic hospital chair was uncomfortable, and she had a serious case of fanny fatigue from sitting so long. She watched her Gram for a moment, and the tears threatened to come again. She tried to fight it, and gave up. She let her emotions get the best of her…and the tears began to flow.

Breathe in…breathe out. Breathe in...breathe out…how much longer will it be, I wonder?

It wouldn't be long.

Her beloved "Gram" was dying…and there was nothing she could do about it. Oh, she could walk right over to her, place a hand right on Gram's chest, and a few minutes later Saril would be up and walking. It would be a miracle, all right. The problem was, Saril didn't want to be healed. She didn't want Michelle's help.

She wanted to die. Michelle thought of a conversation they had had shortly after the old woman's heart had begun to fail.

I can fix it Gram…I can heal you, and you won't hurt anymore. Please let me help you…please.

Then you would be placing yourself above even God himself, Mischa. This illness is a sign from Him. I am an old woman, and I am not afraid to die. My time for absolution has come, and I am not afraid…

That was it…the end of the matter. And so now Michelle sat in an uncomfortable hospital and watched her Grandmother die by inches. She thought of all of the things that had to be done, arrangements that needed to be made. They would need a priest to deliver The Last Rites. The Roma tribe that Saril belonged to would have to be notified. They would all want to see her before she died, to say goodbye as per Romani custom. A funeral would have to be planned. She should call the Eastern Orthodox Church that Saril attended, they would want to know, and they would help with the funeral arrangements.

I should call the Institute…it's been what, three days? Maybe later…I'm too tired to talk to anyone right now.

So much to do, so little time…

Breathe in…breathe out…

It wouldn't be long…

Okay, that's the end of part one…Sorry it was so "action free". This is more plot and character development and like I said…it's my first. Read and review please…oh, and future installments will include more of the team, promise!

-Arin


	2. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Marvel owns everything…and I am a dirt-poor college kid. I am making no money off this fic; it's just for fun. So, Marvel guys…don't sue me!

By the way: I own Maya…she's mine all mine!

The story: this is the second installment of the series, and it continues to jump in time from the present to the not so distant past. Hopefully it won't be too confusing or too boring. Hopefully, Maya isn't too "Mary Sue"…I've tried to make her flawed. If that doesn't work and I get tired of her, I'll just kill her off. Why? Because I'm the author. Mwahahaha. Seriously, I'm sorry she's such a pretty little thing, but seriously have you ever heard of an ugly X-Man in any of the comics/movies/ cartoons?

When I use these symbols // It indicates a telepathic thought. 

So, let's go back to the hospital in New York City, shall we?

The End of the Matter, Part 2

# Present Day: The Hospital

Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…

The heart monitor in the hospital room continued it's vigil, reminding everyone within hearing distance that the patient in Room 221 was still alive, still breathing. Outside the room, a night nurse hurried past the open door, then stopped and looked inside.

The patient lay still, her steel gray hair neatly combed, her eyes closed, an oxygen mask up over her mouth and nose. All seemed well, or reasonably well, with the elderly patient in Room 221, but that wasn't what drew the nurse inside. Her eyes were not drawn to the patient, but to the other person in the room, the young girl in the corner chair.

She was asleep, and the nurse wondered why no one had hurried the child out when visiting hours ended over two hours ago. Her knees were drawn up against her chest, and she had wrapped her arms around them. Her head was resting on her knees, and the nurse watched the child breathe rhythmically. She couldn't see the girl's face…it was turned away from the door.

My God, the girl must have a spine like a Slinky, curled up like she is. Then again, I was that flexible when I was her age…Well, no sense kicking her out now when there's another bed in the room. I'll just wake her long enough to get her into the other bed, so she can get a decent night's sleep, the poor dear.

The nurse strode quietly over to the battered plastic chair; her rubber soled shoes squeaking slightly on the worn linoleum floor, and gently shook the child's shoulder. The girl, who couldn't have been more than 15 or 16, came awake sluggishly at first, then fully aware within a matter of seconds. She uncurled herself from the chair and stood, turning the very action of standing into a full body stretch. It reminded Nurse Carol Jenkins of her pet cat, and she suppressed the urge to be jealous. Besides being ridiculously limber, the child was physically stunning, the kind of girl that most photographers would sell their soul to discover. Definite model material, except for one thing: she was barely 5 foot tall. Still, she was a stunning little thing, with light olive-brown skin, high cheekbones set in a delicate heart-shaped face, thick black hair that reached to the bottom of her shoulder blades in loose pre-Raphaelite curls, and her eyes…well, they were the kind of eyes that men wrote songs and poems about…eyes that just reached out and grabbed you, then wouldn't let you go.

Deep brown, almost black…and slanted, tilting upward at the corner. Oriental almost, but not quite, double-lidded, exotic, strange…she looks like she could see into your soul with those eyes…or cast a spell on you.

Nurse Jenkins shook herself out of her reverie, chiding herself for the momentary lapse in attention. The girl was beautiful, all right, no doubt about that. She was also just about ready to fall over from exhaustion. She had a slightly dazed expression on her face, as if she didn't know where she was. The child ran a hand through her thick, curly hair, looked around and said:

"Where am I? How's my Gram?" Then she looked at the clock on the wall and said,"Oh shit, did I fall asleep past visiting hours again?"

Nurse Jenkins laughed, and said," Well, that certainly broke the spell!" Then she blushed, realizing she'd been thinking aloud when the girl looked at her funny. "Sorry, dear, here I've been standing here daydreaming and you look like you're about ready to drop. To answer your question: yes, you did fall asleep past visiting hours. However, I can't see turning you out of here tonight. It's 20 degrees outside and it's 10 o'clock in the evening. If you'd like, you can stay here in the room with your grandmother for the evening. I'll just need to record your name as a guest, so there's no confusion among the staff. Can you tell me your name, dear?"

"My name is Michelle, and I thank you for your kindness, ma'am, but I really should be going now..."

"Really, dear, you can stay here…its no trouble at all. No one in the hospital will mind, especially since you're a relative of the patient."

The girl hesitated for a moment, looked at her grandmother lying on the bed, then said," No, I'd better be going. I promised Gram I would feed her cats and water the plants at the apartment…wouldn't want to break a promise, neh? Particularly right now under the circumstances…" The child said the last line with a false brightness that didn't even touch those lovely almond eyes, and the nurse thought she saw tears begin to well up. Then she remembered who the patient was…

Saril Villovich, aged 73, progressive congestive heart failure, I remember now… she's a terminal case with a "Do Not Resuscitate" order sitting on file at the Nurses station. I'd bet my pension that her granddaughter knows about it, too. No wonder she wants to get out of here…She'd be sleeping in the same room as a dead woman. Well, as good as dead, really. It doesn't look like it will be too long, and Margaret said that the girl has been here every day for the last five days, since her grandmother was admitted. How could I have forgotten?

The girl was shrugging on her jacket, a worn canvas military coat. It was probably an old U.N. Peacekeeper's jacket, from the looks of it, the kind you could find at some of the thrift stores in the city if you really kept your eyes open. Most kids wouldn't be caught dead in something so …used, but this girl seemed at home in it. It seemed to both contrast and compliment her long orange skirt and scuffed combat boots perfectly.

Gypsy chic…that's what it looks like…what she looks like. One of the Rom…although she doesn't look like most of the Rom I've seen here in New York. I wonder where her parents are? 

"Would you like me to call your parents, dear? They must be worried about you by now…"

"My parents are both deceased ma'am…my grandmother is my legal guardian right now."

"I'm so sorry…I didn't know…How insensitive of me."

The girl, now dressed for the cold December evening, reached out and put a comforting hand on the woman's arm, offering compassion and understanding with a simple human touch. She smiled gently and said, "It's all right, you couldn't have known. And I'll be fine out there, don't you worry." She smiled widely now, almost as if she was enjoying an inside joke, and then laughed and said, "I'm actually a lot tougher than I look…at least that's what my friends at school say. Well, good evening, ma'am."

"Good evening, dear, and watch yourself going home, you hear? We'll take good care of your grandmother, so don't you worry about a thing. She's in good hands."

The girl turned and simply said, "I know." Then she gave another one of her enigmatic smiles and was gone, gracefully making her way out the door, down the hall and into the cold New York night, an elfin woman-child walking alone in a city that would chew her up and spit her out if she let it. A city full of people who would probably kill her if they knew just what she really was, not just Rom, but something more…

Something much, much more…

Maya shrugged deeper into her old jacket, and shuddered in the cold December night, her boots scrutching loudly in the snow that had fallen earlier that evening. It filled the city with a short of innocence, and a beauty that was often missing from the rambling concrete jungle. It was quiet out tonight, and as she looked back at the hospital, she was filled with a sense of peace…and of regret. She had made all of the arrangements today. The Rom had been notified, the Church had been contacted, and the funeral was being planned. All was in order. Still…

I should call the Institute…it's been four days and I need to talk about this now, before I lose my mind. Let's just hope I don't start to cry…I've never let them see me cry…never.

As she walked to the old brownstone that her grandmother called home, she began to think about the past three months, and how much the time had changed her…and she thought especially of the day that this had all began, the day three months ago when her Gram had suffered the heart attack that would be the start of all this. The funny thing was, looking back now, there had been nothing to indicate that it would be anything but a normal day…

Then again…was there any such thing as a "normal" day at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children? 

What would people do if they knew just how "gifted" we really are? Sometimes I wonder…and I fear what the answer would be. I'm being foolish, getting paranoid, running scared. If Gram were here she would probably say something like"Te na knutshos perdal tsho ushalin, Misha"…try not to jump over your own shadow, Michelle. 

Sorry Gram, it's not that easy…

Wish you were here…

**Three months ago: the Xavier Institute**

** **

Maya stood and stretched, her neck popping with the movement. It had been a long meeting, and she was eager to get out and enjoy the rest of her Saturday.

I'll have to find Slushy first…talk to him like I said I would. 

It was such a beautiful day, late September Indian Summer with temperatures in the mid 70's. She had a Chemistry exam to study for, and a creative writing project to finish, but other than that her day was absolutely, positively free of any other responsibilities.

Hell, Chem can wait till tomorrow, or later tonight if I'm not doing anything…I can always go to Hank if I get really stuck on the formulas. Creative Writing? Hmmm…not really in the mood. Maybe I'll go out to the Nature Preserve after I have my one-on-one with Bobby…go out for a run. That or I could get a pick up game of basketball going with Evan. It's too nice out to stay inside all day…

But first to find Bobby…

She went upstairs to his room and knocked on the door…no answer. She went down to the kitchen, the Danger Room, the living room, outside…everywhere. She even tried to "feel" for him mentally, which was usually a last resort for her. She didn't really like using her talents to "find" people; it always felt a bit sneaky to her, like an invasion of privacy. Still, she tried it this time, but there was no sign of him. She really wasn't that surprised; there were a lot of people in the mansion, and it was hard for her to get an accurate reading on people when the house was this crowded. Jean was actually a lot better at it then she was, though Jean was a telepath, not an empath. Just then, Kurt appeared with a BAMF, and an explosion of smoke and brimstone. Maya had been at the mansion way too long for the dramatic entrance to make any sort of impression on her anymore…

Not like the first time…God, I about jumped out of my skin. And the first time he actually 'ported me with him…I almost fell over. Yeah, inter-dimensional travel…it's all the rage these days. All passengers, remember to fasten your seatbelts, and please don't forget your Dramamine…

"Greetings, liebchen, are you perhaps looking for Herr Drake?" said the furry blue mutant, tail swishing slightly behind him, a wicked gleam in his yellow eyes. 

"Yeah, Kurt…have you seen him? I swear I 've looked everywhere."

"Ja, I've seen him", said Kurt with a smile. " Did you perhaps forget to check in the library, Misha? He was last in there, waiting for you. "

Wha…? The library? Well, that is the one place I didn't expect to find him…usually, the only way to get Bobby Drake in the library is to drag him in…or bribe him. Why is he in the library?

"Why is he in the library?" she asked Kurt, who just shrugged and said, "Beats me, I didn't think he even knew where the library was. Maybe he has discovered a newfound love of books, no?"

Maya looked at him, one eyebrow raised and said,"Uhhh, no. The day that Bobby Drake falls in love with books is the day that Hitler takes up ice-skating. It's just not going to happen, buddy. Not in this lifetime, at least…"

Kurt looked at her slyly and said, "Well, then perhaps something, or should I say, somebody has gotten him interested in…ahem…academic pursuits. Perhaps he is trying to impress a certain very serious young lady who likes to spend much of her time in the library? Hmmm…?"

"Well maybe you're right, Kurt. But you know, I really don't think Kitty is his type…" replied Maya wickedly, unable to keep a straight face. 

Kurt smiled back and made a motion as if to smack Maya upside the head, which got her laughing even harder. She then threw an arm around her "cosmic brother", and said, "Care to port me down to Mister Drake, Herr Wagner? I'm feeling particularly lazy today…"

"Ja, why walk when you can…"

** **

** **

**!BAMF!**

** **

The two teens disappeared in a puff of smoke, the distinctive smell of burning brimstone redolent in the air serving as the only reminder that they had been there at all. It drifted away in the still September air, dust motes dancing with the threads of smoke until they melded…and disappeared. And then there was only silence…

**The Present**

Michelle unlocked the door to the brownstone and walked into the living room. The house was actually a duplex; the landlady lived in the other apartment, and had been the one to discover her grandmother that day three months ago. It had been a heart attack. Nadia had called her at the Institute that evening, shortly after the ambulance had taken her grandmother away. Michelle had had plans to go out that night with Alison, Rogue and Kitty, but had backed out at the last minute. She had had a "feeling" that she should stay put, had settled down with her Chemistry notes…and then the phone call came through. Precognition worked that way for her, funny and unpredictable, coming and going when she least expected it. She had stayed in the city that night, alone in the apartment. The place was empty without her Gram's presence to fill it, and she had cried herself to sleep that night…and many nights after that. Alone, as she always was…alone.

Maybe that's why I am so afraid to let her go. I will really, truly, be an orphan then. And I will be alone…

She prided herself on her emotional control. She needed control as an Empath; otherwise she would go crazy trying to deal with everyone around her. Alison called her "the ultimate co-dependent" because she was always trying to keep everyone happy. Always looking out for the team emotionally, trying to keep people from hurting…or killing each other. 

Maybe Ali's right…I need them to be happy, because I'm so sensitive to emotional vibes. If 50% of the household is in a pissy mood, you can just bet I'm going to turn into a royal bitch. I get sucked into the vibe so easily…so I try to head it off at the pass, so to speak. That's the unspoken rule: keep everyone happy, don't leave anyone hurting, and be there for them when they need you. That includes 3 o'clock in the morning counseling sessions, which I've done on more than one occasion. It's an unspoken thing among the kids: you can go to Maya if you need to talk. If you're upset, angry, ready to throw yourself off the roof, you go to Maya because she's a kid, too, and she understands. You go to Ororo if you need a grown-up to talk to, but if it's something that a grown-up isn't going to understand, you go to Maya…

That was the unspoken agreement among the other students at the Institute, and in the 9 months that Michelle had been there, at least seven of the students had taken advantage of it…

Rogue and Kurt, for the most part, but even Warren, Scott, and Jean have come to me from time to time. Bobby would rather not; I think it bugs him that I can get into his head so easily. Evan hasn't either, because of all the students; he's the most comfortable with himself and what he can do. There is another reason that they all come to me: trust. They know that they can come to me, and everything will be kept completely confidential. I try not to choose sides unless somebody is being a jackass, and I don't spill secrets unless someone is in real physical or emotional danger. Deprogramming Bobby has pretty much been the extent of my interference so far, and that's only because he tends to run off at the mouth so often. On the other hand, I've also had to keep the other students…as well as Logan from killing him a few times. That's my role at the Institute: healer, helper, peacemaker and counselor. 

So who heals the healer? Who counsels the counselor when she needs a shoulder to cry on? 

There's nobody…there's nobody at all, because I'm all alone. Because I won't let them see me cry. Because I won't let them see me vulnerable, not even Kurt, and he's the closest thing I have to a 'best friend'. He worries about me, and I shut him out because I don't want him, or anyone else, to see how much this is killing me. I shut them all out, and I'm all alone…

I swear, I am such a pain in the ass sometimes…

She looked at the phone on the end table in the living room. The answering machine light was blinking rapidly 5 times, indicating that there were at least 5 new messages.

Probably telemarketers…God give me strength…

She picked up the phone and hit the messages button. The first one came on:

12:45 p.m: Misha, it is Kurt…please call the Institute when you get in, please?

2:13pm: Michelle, it's Jean…could you please call us here? We didn't want to bother you at the hospital. We're all worried…we haven't heard from you in a few days. Touch base, okay, kiddo?

"I hate it when she calls me that" muttered Michelle under her breath. "Okay…next message…"

5:15 pm: Misha, it's me again…Call me, okay? Even if it's late, just…call, okay? Bye.

5:20: Doll, this is Logan…CALL…THE…INSTITUTE…I SWEAR, the little squirrel is going to drive us all crazy. He's wearin' a hole in the carpet and I'm going to wring his neck if he asks why ya haven't called in 5 days one…more… time. Oh, and if we don't hear from ya tonight, we're all drivin' out t' the city tomorrow to give ya the ass-kicking that you deserve…especially me!

She stared at the phone for a moment and said,"Why, Logan, I'm…touched. Slightly offended, but touched. Okay, well then…next message…"

5:23 pm: Shelly, girl…I'm sorry…that message was, man I can't believe I'm fucking saying this…that last message was insensitive, and I'm a jackass. You take all the time you need, but I tell ya…you take too long and yer Elf friend is gonna be minus a tail…Just, um, yeah…take all the time you need. Whatever, okay? Bye.

"Did Logan just admit he's insensitive? And is this a good thing or a bad thing? Damn, it has been one fucked up day. I should call, if any thing just to spare Kurt a sudden and violent tailectomy…"

I should call…let them know I'll be home soon…in a few days at the most. I should call…but I don't know how to tell them without crying…I never let them see me cry…

I should call…

She picked up the phone.

I should call…

She dialed the number.

What will I say?

"Hello…"

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Okay…that's the end of part 2. The next segment is, I think, going to be told from the other student's p.o.v. I'll have to play around a bit…Read and review, please!

_ _


	3. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer: I own nothing…Marvel owns the world (and the X-Men in all their incarnations). I am so poor that if they sue me they will only get a bill for my tuition.

By the way, I own Maya, who has requested that I not bring her into Mary Sue territory by giving her such great hair (for those of you who read the last installment). She will heretofore be having a bad hair day in nearly all episodes, will be mercilessly subjected to the elements of heat, humidity, cold, wind, rain, freezing rain, raining sleet, sleeting snow, snowing rain, raining cats, cats on a hot tin roof, and the occasional flying iguana. If she bitches anymore, I will arrange to have her hair mercilessly chopped off so that she looks like Keri Russell during the second (and third) seasons of Felicity. Not that I _watch_ Felicity, but…oh, hell…

I made a boo-boo in my first installment. Kitty is supposed to be a cute, perky sophomore, not a freshman. I decided to play God and age everybody by about a year. Why? Because I'm the author, that's why! Mwahahahahha…ahem.

Warning: My universe is strange. It contains elements of both the Comicverse and the TVverse. For some ungodly reason, I haven't seen the movie yet; otherwise I would probably throw some Movieverse into this, too, just to _really_ confuse the hell out of everyone who deigns to read this story. This is my first stab at creative writing with established characters and I'm just doing this for fun. I included Hank and Bobby because…well, they don't get enough story time, and they were always my favorite characters when I was growing up. Criticism is appreciated (please don't make me cry though, I'm sensitive), praise is even better, and both will make me a better writer. Enough said, let's get on with the story!

The End of the Matter, Part 3

Late December, New York City

Michelle ran down the sidewalk, breath puffing like smoke in the chill December air. It was 6 o'clock in the morning, and for the first time in nearly two weeks, she felt like running. She often compared running to flying because of the freedom that it allowed. She had often watched Warren and Ororo fly around the grounds at Graymalkin Lane, and the expression of pure joy that they wore when in flight directly mirrored hers when she ran. Well, on a normal day, it did. There was no joy in the run today. Her lungs were burning; her feet ached with each pounding step, and she had a side stitch that would _not_ quit. She managed to run only a half-mile before she stopped, wheezing and gasping for breathe.

Well, what did you expect dumb ass? You've been living on caffeine and ramen noodles for the last 6 days! Your electrolytes are shot, you have the energy of a turtle, and besides, you've racked up enough sleep debt to file for Chapter 11. Did you really expect to get out here after the week you've had and have a good run? If Logan were here, he'd be laughing his ass off, bless his flinty little heart.

_ _

She paused in front of a storefront and looked at her reflection for a brief moment. She looked like hell. The stress of the past week was beginning to take its toll. There were dark circles on her eyes; her hair hadn't seen a pick or diffuser in two days…or three. There were hollows under her cheekbones that spoke of too many missed or inadequate meals at a time when she was at the rock bottom of the biorhythm chart. 

# God, I look like a crackhead…

_ _

She turned around and headed back for home, tears freezing on her cheeks as she ran away, and the falling snow was her only witness.

She made her way back to the brownstone at a slow trot. Half way there, she slowed to a walk, massaging her aching side, gasping for breath. She thought about the phone conversation she'd had with the Professor and Kurt last night and was immediately thankful that it was after Christmas. A lot of the students, the ones who had contact with their families, were visiting relatives. The only ones left in the Mansion were Jean, Kurt, Scott, Rogue, Bobby, Hank, the Professor, and, of course…Logan.Jeannie had just come back from her parent's home; Hank had scientific stuff to work on. Logan was…well, Logan. And then there were Kurt, Rogue, Scott, and Bobby. They were the ones who didn't have families to go home to, or had families that were too far away, or had families who didn't want them home. _Like Bobby…_

Bobby Drake…resident mischief-maker and general screw-up, he made Kurt look like Mr. Responsibility, which was saying a lot. Actually, they were usually partners in crime,'porting and freezing stuff all over the place. She'd never been able to get Bobby to talk about his Dad, how he didn't want a son who was…different. Really, she's never even tried. She knew it was a sensitive subject with Bobby, and who could blame him? Still, he'd never brought it up, and she never pressed him for it, even though she knew it bothered him a whole lot, especially around the holidays.It would be like prying into someone's personal business when they didn't want you there, like some adults tries to do. Not the best approach when dealing with a 16-year-old boy who could turn you into a Popsicle. And besides, she didn't operate that way. Anybody that talked to her did it of his or her own free will, and she rarely ever did any talking back. She just did the listening and tried to offer insight when it was relevant or needed, when she could actually do something to help…__

_ _

_But not to Bobby…I always seem to let Bobby down. I always seem to dismiss him or push him away because he's such a… God, I hate it when I'm like this. Introspection is not my friend, and it always hits me at the worst time. It reminds me that I have more than a few bad personality traits, and that I've, as Logan likes to remind me, "fucked up big time" on occasion. Why do I do this to myself? Oh, yeah…'to err is human' as Hank likes to quote. "You learn from your mistakes"… blah blah blah…"You're not perfect"…blah blah blah." There's no "I" in team"…blah blah. "You are not progressing as well as I thought, you need to focus more" blah blah blah... Oh I need to stop this, or I'm going to depress myself into a coma…Anyway, at least no one is coming out to see me today. I think I convinced the Professor that I was fine last night…_

_ _

_Then again…he is a telepath…_

_ _

_And there is the whole Kurt factor…I don't think I convinced him that I'm doing okay. Now how backwards is that? The Professor smiles gently and tells me he's glad I'm doing well, sorry that my Gram isn't, and that I should really get some sleep because I sound beat. The fuzzy elf, who has no psychic abilities whatsoever, picks up on the way I'm feeling just through the sound of my voice and gives me the third degree…_

_ _

_What a week…_

_ _

She limped to the brownstone, unlocked the door and practically crawled in the door. Shutting the door with her foot, she turned and locked all three locks, one of which was a deadbolt. This wasn't a bad neighborhood, but it wasn't the best in NYC either, so why take chances.

_ _

_Uhh…I need a shower. Better feed the cats first…_

_ _

Felix and Oscar, the two tabby cats who shared the apartment with Saril, came running at the sound of the door. They stopped short, cocked their heads in an almost identical fashion, and just looked at her.

# Sorry, guys, I'm not Mommy…wish she was here, too, though.

_ _

The cats moved over to her and began to rub their bodies around her legs, purring all the while. Then they untangled themselves, turned and began making their way to the kitchen, occasionally looking back over their shoulders to see if she was coming.

Just like a couple of guys…all they need is food, sex, and the occasional scratch behind the ears to keep them happy. Speaking of food…

She wandered into the kitchen just behind the cats and got coffee started. Then she put some food into the cats' dish. They immediately went over and started eating, purring contentedly all the while. She poured herself a cup of coffee, added milk and sugar, and then sat down on the floor a few feet away from the cats. Felix, who was the oldest and biggest, moved out of his customary spot at the bowl by Oscar, sauntered over and began rubbing his head on her knee. She placed the cat in her lap and began scratching him behind the ears, which got some outboard motor worthy purring out of Felix. She sighed, looked down at the cat, then at his brother and said, "Yeah, old boy, I miss her too. What am I going to do with you once your Mommy is gone? I can't take you back home with me, and I can't bear the thought of taking you to the APL…what are we all going to do once she's gone?"

The now-sleepy cat yawned, stretched and leaped out of her arms, apparently choosing food over affection for the moment. _Just like a cat, priorities first…_He rejoined his brother at the food bowl, which was situated in a patch of weak December sunlight. She took her coffee cup and moved beside the bowl, looking at the two beloved felines, and fought the lump that was forming in her throat. _I will not cry…I will not cry…oh to hell with it…_Sitting in a patch of warm sunlight next to her grandmother's cats, she began to cry…

Dr. Henry "Hank" McCoy, aged twenty-something, sat in his car in front of the old brownstone apartment and checked his watch. 

_8 a.m. She should be awake by now, and hopefully willing to see visitors. Kurt seemed to think that she was in some distress from the sound of things last night. Not that I can blame her, what she is going through right now must be unbearable. Still, it troubles me that the young lady isn't coming to us for help when she obviously needs it. __Not that I expected her to…if there is a soul on earth who needs to take her own advice, it is Michelle "Maya" Chen, Psychic Healer and resident Empath of the Xavier Institute._

_ _

Kurt had stayed home this morning, saying that he would visit at a more reasonable hour, after Hank had been there to talk some sense into her stubborn little brain. He had told Hank that he hoped he would be able to get through to her, that she had sounded really bad, no matter how hard she had tried to convince him otherwise. There had been an urgency to the boy's voice and a look in his eyes that told Hank that the young mutant was really, truly worried…_ _

_ _

_Well…Kurt is probably her closest friend among the teenage set. They look out for each other, support each other, and generally have a very open and honest relationship .She helps him through his relationship troubles with Katherine, and normally he keeps her from going crazy, usually by making her laugh. He knows her better than anyone at the Institute, even the Professor. She is always the one who is rushing to their rescue, whether it is to mend physical wounds…or emotional ones. It never fails to amaze me how willing she is to drop everything to help one of the other children when they are in need. The fact that all of them, even the girls, trust her implicitly says volumes for her character. Of course, given the nature of her talents and how directly they are tied into her physiology and immune system, perhaps it is a good thing that she is so willing to help others; she would be a walking zombie if she didn't. That or she would wind up doing a slow dance on a ledge… perish the thought._

_ _

Hank genuinely liked Michelle. She was kind, loving, and affectionate, but would tell you without hesitation if you were being an ass. Honest, studious, and a most gifted young healer, she was acutely aware of physical injury or disease, pain and human suffering, and had an interest in pursuing the healing arts after her graduation in a year or so. Hank had done everything in his power to foster that interest, and she had spent countless hours in the lab with him over the last nine months rather than pursuing more age appropriate activities, like dating.

"Oh but, Hank," she had teased during one lab session, "Why would I want to go out on a date with a guy who won't appreciate me when I could hang out with a very cool platonic friend who does? Trust me, I'd rather study the molecular structure of earthworms than date some of the guys in my school."

_ _

_"But, Maya, dear…you know I just worry that you are throwing your childhood away. What about some of the young men at the Institute?"_

_ _

"Mmmm…let's see, Scott is taken, Warren is as good as taken, Kurt is almost taken. Evan isn't interested in anything but basketball and computers, and Bobby is a bit freaked out by me." She had then sighed dramatically, and batting her eyelashes, said, " Well… I guess that leaves Logan…"

_ _

_She had said that last bit with a wry smile, and he couldn't pass up the opportunity…_

_ _

_"You and Logan, eh? A veritable match made in heaven. Why, you could psychoanalyze him and then he could beat you up in the Danger Room in record time."_

_ _

_She had burst out laughing then, and said, "I forget, what is the current record? Isn't it something like 33.2 seconds? I am afraid, my friend that I am not cut out for fightin 'an' killin' thangs, as Rogue would say. The healer thing just gets in the way. It drives Logan crazy. I just know it. He wants to turn me into a lean, mean, killing machine and I just want to go play in the Med Lab. I swear, I am going to drive that man into an early grave before the year is out."_

_ _

So she kept herself as chaste as a nun, and spent much of her free time in the lab with him. He enjoyed her company and it was obvious that she felt very comfortable around him, judging from her easy banter during their lab sessions. He had even found himself wishing once or twice that she were a bit older than her nearly 17 years…

Don't go there, McCoy…besides what would she ever see in you? And the age thing is a bit, as Kitty would say, 'icky'. She needs a friend more than anything, not…something else.

_ _

8:15…time to go…

# I hope she is alright…

_ _

_I hope that I can get through to her…_

_ _

_I hope…_

_ _

He got out of the car.

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_ringringring_

_ _

_What the heck? The phone?_ Michelle opened her eyes and looked around, trying to find the source of the ringing. Blearily, she got to he feet, the sudden movement making her head swim.

Ooh…I'm going to have to start taking Iron pills…don't want to get anemic and sick. That would seriously crimp my healing talent…bad thing to have happen when you've got Mystique's little posse running around causing injury and chaos at the high school…

_ _

She stretched out her back and looked at the floor. The cats were gone and so was her coffee. 

"Oh, great…I fell asleep on the floor and the cats just totally take advantage of the situation. Perfect…"

ringringring

It wasn't the phone; instead the sound was coming from the front doorbell. She looked at the clock on the wall: 8:16 a.m.

# Oh my…was I out that long?

_ _

She walked to the door cautiously, and peered through the peephole, then sighed with relief when she saw who was waiting outside. She threw all the locks, opened the door and said, "Hank…"

"Michelle…it's good to see you again."

"Mmm…thank you, it's good to see you, too. Come in please…"

He did, following her into the foyer, hanging his huge wool coat on the coat rack outside the living room. She padded into the living room lightly, and Hank found himself envious as always of her native grace.

# Then again, if I were barely over 100 lbs and 5'1" tall, I 'd be stealthy, too!

Saying that he was a big guy was the understatement of the year. He was easily 12 inches taller than Michelle, and outweighed her by a good 200 lbs, none of which was fat. His oversized hands could crush all of the bones in her frail, delicate ones with minimal effort. Not that he would do that, of course. He was a man of science and medicine. A healer like her, but without the mutant ability to heal by touch, instead he used his intellect and medical training to assist her when necessary. He would only act in violence if one of his own were being threatened, which included everyone at the Institute, even Logan.

"Have a seat, make yourself comfortable. Oh, and watch out for the cats."

"The cats?"

"Yeah, they're highly caffeinated right now" She grimaced slightly at his puzzled expression, and said, "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"I'll take your word for it", said the large man in the armchair. Then he sighed and said, "So, truthfully, Michelle…how are you?"

It's the story that never ends! Next installment…deep philosophy, religious beliefs, Twinkie consumption, caffeinated cats, apologies, tears, and a death in the family (that would be Michelle's grandmother). I may be able to end this soon! Read and review, please. Input is wonderful. To all of those who have reviewed this series, so far…thank you.

-Ring


	4. The End of the Matter, Pt.04

Disclaimer: I own nothing…they own everything. I am making no money off of this story. This is just for fun…

I created Maya, and I don't know if she'll be sticking around much longer…maybe, maybe not. Grief has a funny way of working itself out on the written page. No matter how frustrating it may be, no matter the feelings that it dredges up, it helps in the end. A weird catharsis, I think… I love you, Dad…wherever you may be.

Those of you who've read the first three installments know what this is about. If you haven't…please read them, or this will make zero sense.

It's probably about as exciting as watching paint dry, but there is quite a bit of Romany lore in this one. For those of you who actually read this, if you are interested in researching the Rom, the Patrin Web Journal is a wonderful and informative read. There are also many web links that will give you a lot of info on the Rom, including spoken language translations.

There's also a LOT of talking. I'm not the biggest "action fic" girl, being that I'm still new at this. Hopefully, my dialogue won't make you snore…

My universe is strange; it contains elements of both the Comicverse and the TVverse. I have tried to be true to the characters, taking the best elements of each. I gave Kurt the spiritual quality that is missing in the current cartoon incarnation. Kept the humor, though. I always liked him better in the comics...personal opinion (sorry!). Beast stays the same, but he's pre-Lab accident; Bobby's got a deep side in there somewhere…one that I may develop further if I decide to do this again. Beast is the only one who makes an appearance in this chapter…I'm sorry, it just worked out that way!

Read and review please. Let me know if I should keep writing…for those of you who have already…thank you (that means you, PallaPlease).

The End of The Matter, Pt.4

Late December, New York City

"So truthfully, Michelle…how are you doing?"

Michelle stared at Hank sitting there in the armchair across from her. She sighed, and took a seat on the couch, nervously played with the fringe on one of the throw pillows for a moment, and said:

"Truthfully, Hank…I've been better…"

There, the words were out. She had said it: _I'm feeling God-awful, Hank…like someone's been kicking me in the gut for the past week. Hell, longer than that…ever since Gram got sick. Ever since she told me that she didn't want me to heal her. I'm on the edge, the ragged edge, barely hanging on. Crying jags every day, not sleeping, barely eating…He has to be able to see that. He's a doctor, after all, as well as a trusted friend, and I can't fool him…_

_ _

"If I may be so bold as to say it: You look like something that the proverbial cat dragged in. It is with the utmost amount of restraint that I am keeping myself from checking your pulse to see if you are, in fact, still alive. To put it point blank…you look like hell, kid." He was using his "I'm a scientist" voice, but the worry crept through anyway, lacing the words with an urgency that he could not disguise.

She laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, and said,"Let me guess, Kurt sent you… I had kind of hoped that he wouldn't. I tried to tell him last night. I mean, I just…I…just…wanted to be left alone. At least, I thought I did…this is difficult as it is without dragging anyone else into it. No offense meant, Hank…"

"None taken, Michelle. It is never easy to admit you are having trouble… coping, particularly with your abilities. You are, if I may say it, very used to taking care of yourself as well as others…"

"Right…and I can usually deal with things. Usually. And I thought I could deal with this as well. But lately…the past few days…I'm not surprised Kurt picked up on it. I'm not feeling like much of an actress lately. I don't feel like much of anything except shit." 

Hank looked at her, sitting alone on the worn sofa, and his heart ached. She was so frail, so fragile anyway; a veritable emotional sponge, really, and this situation only made her seem _more_ fragile. This wouldn't be easy…she seemed to be in a bit of a downward spiral and he didn't know if he could pull her out. Still, as a Doctor and a friend, he had to try…

"Michelle, you do know that Kurt is only looking out for your best interests. He is _worried_ about you, as are we all. And, truth be told, he was not the only one who sent me. You failed to completely fool Charles last night whilst on the phone. He said that he could pick up on your distress all the way from the mansion!"

"Telepathy by phone? Now _that's_ talent," Michelle laughed dryly, shaking her tangled mop of hair out of her eyes. " I'll have to see if he can teach me that trick when this is all…all over. I don't suppose that it works for empathy, though. He hasn't had much luck improving my empathic abilities lately..."

Is that a note of bitterness or self-pity that I 'm detecting?Hmmm…introspection at a time like this is a bad thing for her, being that her abilities are tied directly into her immune system…Okay, McCoy, first things first…get her out of this funk. Unless I am way off my mark, she is ready to talk about her situation…God, she looks like crap, poor kid.

_ _

She sat on the couch, slumped over. Normally, she was a bright, if somewhat quiet presence: cerebral, contained, but still a vital, vibrant soul. Not today…today she looked like a burnt out shell, a husk of herself. There were dark circles under her eyes and a swollen look that indicated she'd had at least one good episode of crying already today; her skin had a dull, sallow look to it, and her hair was a tangled mop of black ringlets. She was fidgeting nervously, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and biting her lower lip. She looked worried…or scared…

# Not of me, I hope…

_ _

The quiet stretched between them until it became almost unbearable. Finally, Michelle sighed, looked at him with those big dark eyes, and said:

"Can we go somewhere? To, you know…talk? Much as I hate the idea of pouring my guts out to anyone, I'm smart enough to know that I'm in pretty bad shape emotionally right now. I guess I really should talk about…everything that's going on, before it totally eats me up…before I go dancing on a ledge…sailing off a roof… Hank… " She looked at the big man sitting across from her, looked down at her feet, and said in a choking whisper, "I need help…"

# Don't…cry…do…not…cry. Not in front of him…not in front of anyone…oh, to hell with it…

Hank got up from his armchair and moved over to the couch. He sat down next to her, and put an oversized arm around her slender shoulders. He half expected her to pull away, but she didn't even try_, _"Michelle…" he said softly, "If you would like to, we can talk about this right here, right now, in the safety of your Grandmother's home. I am no expert… I am not a psychologist, but I do know what it feels like to grieve. And I know that at a time like this you need, more than anything, a friend who is willing to listen to you. If _you_ are willing, I would like to be that friend. I want to help you…Will you allow me to?"

She looked up at him, this massive teddy bear of a man that she had come to love and trust during her time at the Institute. _A trusted friend…that's what he is..._

Then she nodded "yes". He looked down at her, a tiny, fragile child who did her best to appear strong and stable to the outside world…and he thought of her "codename": Maya. _It means "love" or "affection" in some Hindu languages, but in most it means "illusion". I had never thought of it before today…but it fits her personality well…_

_ _

She ran a shaking hand through her mop of hair, and said quietly. "This…is very difficult for me, Hank. I thought about it last night, when I was trying to get to sleep. I…you said it earlier…I'm so used to helping other people that when I need help…it's hard for me to go to someone else. I'm so…old inside; I always have been. I've never really acted my age, and I'm so used to having people depending on me…it's really, really hard to be in the opposite position. For me, it feels like a weakness and it's bringing out some of my worst traits…"

"Which are?" asked Hank kindly.

She sat and thought for a moment, "I'm stubborn, for one thing. I have shut everyone that I love out of this situation because…" She stopped, as if searching for the right words…

"Because…why?"

"Because I've never let anyone see me like this before. I've never let them see me vulnerable. I am used to being strong emotionally, and they all depend on me for that strength. I guess it kind of makes up for the lack of physical strength, in a way.They all know that they're going to have to bail my ass out if it comes to a physical fight, but I'll help them with the internal stuff afterwards, you know? That's what I do…they go kick bad guy butt and I just…clean up the mess. I don't mind, really, its kind of my job…always has been since I went Empathic. But sometimes…it gets real old…like I just want to go hide somewhere real quiet and not have to feel anything…Maybe I'm just being selfish. Scratch that…I know I'm being selfish! And I've been a bit of a bitch…and I haven't been a very good friend, and…am I boring you with my mindless drivel?"

Hank laughed, a surprisingly light sound considering how huge he was, then he said," Nay fair lady…drivel on if it makes you feel better. I'm just happy that you are willing to communicate with me, though I think you're being a _bit_ hard on yourself."

"Hmmm…maybe, maybe not. I've pushed away anyone who wanted to help me. I shouldn't have done that…I think I have an easier time talking to you about this than I do the students, even Kurt. I mean, you're so…centered and focused all the time, which helps me stay focused, too. I'm seeing things a lot more clearly, not putting up my defenses like I would with one of the students." She sat up and looked around the room, clearly searching for something…or someone, then said, "Not to detract from our conversation, but I should really see what the cats are up to…they're being entirely too quiet…"

"Ah, yes, you mentioned that they were 'highly caffeinated'. Do I dare ask what happened?"

"Well, I sort of fell asleep on the kitchen floor this morning, and…they drank my cup of coffee. Trust me, Felix and Oscar on a caffeine high is not a good thing…I should look for them, make sure they haven't eaten the curtains yet."

Hank laughed, shaking his head at the thought of java laced cats, and said, "If you don't mind, I'll think I'll stay here in the safety of the living room."

"You mean, the relative safety of the living room. The little monsters could be lying in wait until I leave the room, ready to pounce on you." She was openly grinning now, and though she looked like a shadow of her former self, Hank found hope in the expression. 

"Fear not, m'lady…it will take more than a couple of nefarious felines to break me. After all, it couldn't be any worse than dealing with Kurt and Bobby on a daily basis…could it?"

"Oh, Hank, you haven't met Felix and Oscar yet…they've made grown men cry. Seems they don't like sharin' thar wimmen. They attack just about every guy who walks in the door…"

Hank's eyebrows rose in an expression of pure incredulous surprise. "A bit overprotective, eh? Did they include the Professor and Kurt on their hit list?"

Seems I remember Kurt talking about the cats, and how they kept staring at him through the whole recruitment visit. I don't remember the Professor mentioning the dynamic duo, though…Jean and Ororo thought they were absolutely adorable; Scott was scared stiff…I think that was the second visit, if I am not mistaken…

Michelle, who was in the kitchen by now, called back, "Well, they didn't physically attack them, although Oscar kept batting at Kurt's tail, and Felix kept sitting directly behind Scott on the sofa, just hovering over him. I don't think they bothered the Professor at all. I don't think he would have tolerated getting pounced on…Come to think of it, I wonder if TP works on animals?"

Henry had gotten up from the sofa and was looking at some of the pictures on the walls and tables. He had not met Saril Villovich himself, but he had gotten a description of her from the Professor after the initial visit to recruit Michelle…he had created a mental picture of her in his mind, and was surprised to see that it did not in any way match up with the woman in the pictures. He had imagined a strong, steely, queen-like woman, while the lady in the pictures was only a shade smaller than Michelle, and just as delicately featured.

He picked up a fairly recent picture of Michelle and her Grandmother. They were leaning together, and both smiling, a cat in each lap. Hank was surprised to see the expression of love on the older woman's face: from what he had heard, Michelle's grandmother was a strict, unbending, and devoutly religious woman, not unlike an old schoolteacher with her wooden ruler…

"That one's my favorite", said a soft voice behind him, and he suppressed the urge to jump. "We both look so happy there. Looking at that picture reminds me of how she used to be, a vibrant, tough, feisty little old woman who loved her granddaughter fiercely. It helps to look at it…helps to remind me…because there isn't much left of her now."

"Tell me about her…if you don't mind, I would like to hear…"

Michelle took the picture, and sat down on the couch. Hank sat next to her again, then looked around the room for a moment," I take it the little scoundrels are still AWOL?"

"Oh yeah…they're probably holed up somewhere, just waiting to get us. They'll come out eventually; although I'm surprised they haven't launched a sneak attack against you by now…"

"Perhaps they know a true dominant male when they see one," he joked lightly. She took the bait, and laughed, a bit more warmly this time, "Oh Hank, are you emulating Logan now? The Manliest Alpha-Male this side of the Rockies? I thought you had more self-confidence than that! If I wasn't so tired, I'd smack you upside the head with a wet noodle just to set you straight…"

"No need, Michelle…I am in no way tempted to idolize Logan."

"Thank God, now I can finally sleep at night…"

They both shared a laugh reminiscent of their times in the Med Lab, then sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Michelle spoke up:

"Maybe it would help if you actually met her, saw her for yourself…it's almost time for visiting hours anyway…although I've got to warn you, there will probably be a lot of people there today. The elders in the Kalderash tribe that Gram belongs to will, without a doubt, be visiting today. In fact, they're probably already at the hospital by now..."

"Is there some sort of tradition that they follow for this type of situation? You've never really talked about your Romany heritage that much. From what Kurt has told me, the Rom have a tradition for just about every major life event. I wasn't sure if they differed from country to country or tribe to tribe, being that your Grandmother's tribe is Romanian by descent and Kurt's foster family is German…"

She shook her head "no", "There is no real difference among the tribes as far as birth, marriage, and death rituals go. Oh, there might be slight variations depending on what group you belong to, but they're basically all the same. It's the same as the language: any Rom from any country can understand each other when they speak the Romany language because it's universal between tribes and countries. That's why Kurt can understand me when I speak to him in Rom, even though I'm American, and my Gram could understand him when he spoke to her in Rom, even though he's German. It's a universal language, the only thing that differs are the accents of the people speaking. Understand?"

"Of course. It's quite ingenious really. Is there a written language, too?"

"Not really…it's mostly in glyphs. They are often left in a storefront to warn other Rom, or to leave a message, stuff like that. It was really effective when there were a lot of "Gypsy Patrols"."

"Gypsy…patrols?"

She nodded vigorously. "They were specific patrols among the local police force that looked out for scam jobs among the Rom. You know, to keep people from getting 'gypped'? They were pretty prevalent when my Gram was younger, after she emigrated with my Granddad and my Mom. In fact, there was one particular Sergeant on the force who had his eye on the fortune telling business that my Gram worked for about 25 years ago. He kept poking his nose in…trying to make sure they weren't scam artists. She wound up making a believer out of him one night…"

"Dare I ask…what did she do?"

Michelle giggled girlishly and said, "She read his palm _and_ did a tarot reading on him. My Gram has Sense…she gives a dead-on accurate reading when she reads someone, and that's what she did to this guy. He left a believer, and he never bothered them again. Neither did anyone else on the force, for that matter…"

Hank looked at the girl for a moment, and then said softly, "I regret that I did not take the opportunity to meet your Grandmother when I had the chance. She sounds like a fascinating woman."

"She is…she was…actually, a lot of the students have met her; Kitty and Evan did about 3 months ago, remember? I think it was in the middle of September…?"

"Ahhh…was that the report that they teamed up on for European History? The one about the Holocaust?"

Michelle nodded, and then added sadly, "She survived it, you know…the Holocaust, I mean. So many others didn't. Kitty said that she has relatives that lived through it, too. Gram had some intense horror stories, stuff that used to keep me up at night. Things the SS did to gypsy women…ethnic cleansing, gang rapes, that sort of thing. Experiments that Hitler's scientists did on gypsy children.They tore families apart…kept tribes apart to cause terror among the prisoners. They tried to totally wipe out the Rom population in Europe through terror and torture and death, because in their mind, we were as worthy of extinction as the Jews. There was one night, April 1, 1944…4,000 Romany men, women, and children were butchered and incinerated at Auschwitz. That's the one that really sticks in my mind…one big mass execution. We always hold a candlelit ceremony on that night, my Grandmother and I…to remember all that died, to remind us of all that was lost in the War."

Hank nodded thoughtfully and looked at the picture, "It is good to remember these things…no matter how painful they are…it serves as a reminder to future generations, so that no one forgets the past. "

Michelle got up from the couch and walked over to the end table where the picture had been. She held it in her hands for a moment, touching it lovingly, then placed it on the table. When she turned around, Hank was surprised to see that her face was wet with tears. She wiped them off, as if she was slightly embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry…it just hit me that she won't be here to light the candles with me next April. I'll be doing it alone. It's…so…hard…to think of things like that, knowing she's going to be gone. I'm sorry…I promised myself I would be strong for her…for myself…that I wouldn't cry in front of anyone. But…" Her face crumpled, and she placed a hand over her eyes, as if to physically prevent the tears from flowing. Hank got up, walked over, and awkwardly placed a hand on her arm.

"I have lost those that I love, and it is never easy. There is no shame in crying for their loss. _I_ will not think any less of you, and I know for a fact that the others will not either…"

She started crying openly then, great sobs wracking her slender frame. Hank took her in his arms and gently stroked her hair, tears running down his face as well, grieving with her, sharing her pain as if it were his own, gently whispering that she would be alright…she would not be alone through this, the end of the matter…everything would be fine… in the end.__

………………………………………………………………………………………………

1 hour later:

They sat together at the kitchen table, each with a cup of coffee. Michelle had showered and made herself slightly more presentable while Hank made…or tried to make…breakfast. There had been virtually nothing in the cupboards but rice, ramen noodles, and some week old bread. The refrigerator held only milk, eggs, and jelly. So he had made her a small plate of eggs and toast, which she actually ate a small portion of. True to form, Hank was eating a Twinkie, which he proclaimed was the 'breakfast of champions'.

"Hank, do you know what the shelf lives on those things are? There have to be enough artificial preservatives in them to-"

The ringing of the phone cut off her thoughts…

"-Hang on a sec, I'll get that…"

He watched her while she answered the phone. She talked for a moment in English, and then switched to Romany. Hank saw her face go pale, and her hands clutch the phone so tightly that her knuckles shown white. After a brief amount of time, she hung up the phone, and then turned to him.

" That was the _baro, _the 'big man' of the tribe. Gram has taken a turn for the worse, and they've called in her priest to deliver the Rites…Hank, I feel awkward asking, but would you go with me? You don't have to if you don't want to, if hospitals make you uncomfortable…but I would feel a lot better with you there."

Hank stood up and put the dishes in the sink, then turned to her and said; "Wild horses couldn't keep me away. I told you before that you are not going to do this alone, and I meant every word of it…in fact, I am of a mind to call the Institute and have the others come up to see you. Would you object terribly if I did?"

She frowned for a moment, and then said, "No, it really wouldn't bother me…might actually help, in fact. And I have some apologizing to do to everyone, being that I've been a bit of a brat the past few days…you know, avoiding everyone, not returning phone calls. I'm surprised that no one visited me before today…"

"They, or at least some of them, were very tempted. And despite their concern for you, nobody blames you for being distant, no matter how frustrating it is for them to see you this way, knowing how difficult this is. "

"Are you so sure of that? Logan threatened to kick my ass last night, and he sounded _very_ sincere."

"Ah well, Logan is a law unto himself, and he deals with these things in his own charming way. You must admit, though, he got your attention, neh?"

She laughed, and shook her head, curls bouncing wildly. "Oh yeah, Logan has a way of getting a person's attention all right. The scary thing is, he actually called back three minutes later to _apologize _for threatening to kick my ass earlier_._ I almost fell over from the shock…it was so out of character for him. Well, my friend, we ready to roll?"

"As ready as I'll ever be…"

"You know, I _still _haven't found those cats. I wonder where they could be?"

"I'm sure they'll be fine. I wouldn't worry about them. Well…after you m'lady."

They grabbed their coats and requisite keys, locked up the house and went outside to Hank's car. Michelle looked back at the house as she got in the car, and then did a double take. Inside the front window were the cats, sitting side by side, and as the vehicle pulled away from the curb, she could almost swear they were waving goodbye…

End of chapter 4… Sorry this was so full of dialogue, but I wanted to give a little more background on her Grandmother, so that she wouldn't seem so 'cardboard'. You know, the token dying relative…chapter 5 coming soon, hopefully I will be able to wrap this up…

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	5. The End of the Matter, Pt.05

Disclaimer: you know the drill…they do, I don't. She's mine, not theirs. I'm just borrowing them for the time being…

This is the final chapter (everybody breathes a BIG SIGH OF RELIEF). Dialogue and viewpoint will mainly be from other character's perspective…I hope…

Once again LOTS of talking…

Read and review please…PLEASE!!!!

THE END OF THE matter, Pt. 5

Hank McCoy walked the whisper-quiet halls of the hospital and looked around furtively for an isolated place to sit. The main waiting area on the second floor was too noisy, there were nearly a dozen people waiting in chairs to see the patient in room 221, and they were all talking. 

Finally, he found an unoccupied nook far from the main area. It sat adjacent to a large window with a wonderful view of the grounds. He looked outside, and could see Michelle sitting outside on a bench with Kurt, who of course had his visual inducer on. The Professor, Kurt, Bobby and Rogue had come by nearly an hour and a half hour ago, and Michelle was taking some time to speak with all of them in turn. The Professor was currently in room 221, speaking privately with Michelle's grandmother. Bobby and Rogue were either down in the cafeteria or in another waiting area, talking. With everyone occupied, Hank had decided to take his laptop to a quiet place and write an entry in his journal. He opened the slender computer, and looked down at the two children sitting outside. They were talking, he could tell by the fact that their mouths were moving, as well as the fact that they were both moving their hands. Maya and Kurt both had a tendency to "talk with their hands". Michelle was sitting on the left, slightly turned toward Kurt. She was sitting somewhat slumped over, and Hank saw Kurt put a comforting hand on her back, gesturing eloquently with the other one.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a bird in the tree behind them…to know what they are saying, what she is thinking. Scratch that…what I wouldn't give to be a Telepath right now!

Jean and Scott would be coming by later, before visiting hours were over. It was a Wednesday; the last of this year, and Jean had a recruitment visit at Columbia University that she couldn't get out of. Scott had gone with her to check out the campus. He had delayed college for a year, and was now looking at attending either Columbia or NYU next year, though he still didn't know what he wanted to major in. Hank privately thought that he had delayed entry simply so that he and Jean would be in the same college class together. He had said that it was because he needed to 'find himself' and so that he could focus on being team leader without the distraction of school, but Hank suspected that the redheaded Telepath had more to do with it than that. They were _very_ much an item right now…and were somewhat of a 'dynamic duo', always doing things together. College, he suspected, would be no exception…

He looked back outside at the two teens on the bench. They were still talking. He knew that Kurt had suggested that they go outside, that was the reason they were sitting outside in the cold. He had thought it would help Michelle to get away from the room for a short period of time. Kurt was good at things like that. He was not a psychic, but he was sensitive enough to pick up physical and verbal cues as quickly as any of the three psychics at the Institute. Hank surmised that this was the reason why Kurt and Michelle were such close friends, the fact that he was just as sensitive to people's feelings as she was, though he did not have the ability to literally 'know' what they were feeling. 

# He would make an excellent therapist…or a priest…I wonder if he's thought of that...of course it would be rather difficult, having to wear the inducer day in and day out, always avoiding physical contact. He doesn't dare go outside without it, for fear of ridicule. God knows he got enough of that in Germany…

Hank shook his head, gave the children one last look, and began writing in his laptop, the rhythmic click of the keys breaking the silence of the halls.

_JOURNAL ENTRY, DECEMBER 31st…_

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_I am writing on this, the last day of the year, about the prospect of Michelle's grandmother's death. It seems somewhat ironic, and yet fitting, that she would die on the last day of the calendar year, but perhaps I am making too much out of it. We can't pick the day that we die unless we kill ourselves, right? And even then, how much premeditation is really involved?_

_ _

_I went in to see her, Saril that is…she was awake and lucid. The doctors lowered the amount of painkillers in her system so that she would be alert. Michelle was worried, being that she can ~feel~ physical pain due to her healing talent, but once she spent time with her Grandmother, she relaxed a bit. It seems that the old woman is not feeling or registering any sort of physical pain at all, which is strange to me as a doctor. Then again, what do I know? There are stranger things that have happened…_

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_Michelle seems to have accepted the inevitable…that her Grandmother is going to be leaving her. I think it comes as a bit of a relief to her at this point, which she feels guilty for. Rogue said that one of Michelle's worst fears was to not be able to help someone that is dying…if that is true, then she is living out her worst nightmare…something that is both chilling and sad to me._

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_I have come up with some theories as to why her Grandmother does not wish to be saved, but I will not share them here. I need time to collect my thoughts…think things through before I commit them to electronic paper, so to speak…Kurt has come up with his own thoughts on the matter, and I believe that he is trying to explain them to Michelle at this moment in order to give her some clarity. I spoke with her this morning…held her in my arms while she cried and poured her heart out. I can tell you that this is one of the things that she does not fully understand... If only she were a telepath, able to reach into the mind of her grandmother and get her answers with minimal effort, but she is not. And I truly believe that she would have a difficult time doing that, if she could read thoughts. She believes that Empathy is an intrusive gift, so it stands to reason that telepathy would be no different for her…_

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_It won't be long…tonight at the latest. She used 'Sight' to ~see~ her Grandmothers aura, and it confirmed what she ~felt~…the old woman is fading away by the hour. I truly regret that I did not meet her sooner. What a wealth of information she must have! The history that this woman has seen is mind-boggling. She does not harbor some of the prejudice that others of her kind have towards outsiders, or "gadjo" as the Rom call us. Michelle thinks that it is due to the fact that she has a half-gadjo granddaughter. I think it is because she is a wise and open-minded woman, able to see beyond cultural restrictions, defying convention by taking in her half-bred grandchild. One hopes that Michelle will turn out the same way. I think, from watching her over the past nine months, that she will be an exceptional young woman once she reaches adulthood, as will all of Charles' students…exceptional, gifted…different._

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He saved the file, and stretched his fingers out, then looked down at the bench. Michelle and Kurt were no longer there. He leaned forward a bit, and could see them walking down the sidewalk, still talking and laughing about something.

Keep that up, m'lad…that's what she needs to do right now more than anything. She's held everything inside for so long…I should go see what the others are up to…

He got up, closed his computer down, then started walking back towards the main waiting area, the two children outside momentarily forgotten…

Outside: 30 minutes ago:

Kurt and Michelle (he almost always shortened her name to Misha) sat together on the bench, talking. They had been there for only a few minutes. Kurt seemed to think that being outside, away from the hospital would be a much-needed break for his friend. She had been going slightly loopy indoors, with so many people there, and he and the Professor both agreed that being outdoors would be good for her. So they had found this place, overlooking the street, and had decided to sit for a while and talk…

"Kitty sends her love…she said she wishes she could be here with you."

"You spoke to her? How is she doing? Have her parents driven her crazy yet?"

Kurt laughed and shook the hair out of his eyes, "Nein, she says that it has actually been a fairly sane visit, and she is doing well. She is plenty eager to get out from under the parental radar, though. They are a bit, ummm, overprotective."

Michelle laughed as well, "Yeah, she told me that they were always fearing for their "little kitten". I think they'd be shocked to see what she's learned to do in what, a year?"

"Ja, she came in directly after me. And yes, they would be plenty shocked at Kitty Pryde, Kung Fu Master. Now we need to have Logan start working with you, get you all toughened up…"

"I don't think so…you know I detest violence. Fighting makes people hurt, which hurts me, which really sucks. I think the most he's going to teach me at this point is how to defend myself if someone tries to jump me. I'm pretty much a lost cause when it comes to anything else."

Kurt smiled and then turned to her, "Misha…how are you doing, really? You sound better than you did last night, but…"

"I'm holding up…you can't really expect me to be happy about this. I mean, my grandmother is dying, and I'm a healer! It's taking all my willpower to not race up to her room and ~fix~ her. I have been trying to figure out what the hell has been stopping me…but I still don't know."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, and thought for a moment, "I think, Misha, that it is not 'what in hell' but rather 'what in heaven' that is stopping you…will you let me explain? This may get pretty deep…you know how I get when I go off on a tangent…"

She nodded yes, and at her ascent he continued, his thickly accented voice breaking the silence…

"I am a believer in faith. I always have been since I was very small. There were times in my childhood where I would hide in the churches and just listen to the preachers give their sermons. I never dared to show myself, even to a man of God, because I was too afraid that their faith would be false, that even they would not accept a child who looked like a blue demon when they are supposed to accept all of God's children. Anyway, I learned to read…my foster parents taught me German, English and, as you are aware, their native tongue even though I was, technically, gadjo. I read the bible, read anything I could get my hands on…after all, I couldn't really walk around in brought daylight, could I? So…I read books and I listened to sermons in the churches, hidden in the shadows. I had time to observe a belief among many people in religion that there is a specific time to die, that sooner or later, God calls his children home. It is my belief, Misha, that this is why your Grandmother does not want you to intervene on her behalf. She is not being stubborn, or causing you unnecessary pain out of some malicious intent, instead it is simply a matter of her faith that has caused her to make this decision. And I ask you this, do you think that she would willingly choose death if she believed it to be a bad decision?"

Michelle sat silently for a few moments, slouched over, her hands on her knees, and then she looked at her friend and said, "She told me when she first got sick, when her heart started to fail, that she did not want me to heal her. She said…that she did not want me to "play God". I didn't understand…I got angry, said a bunch of things I shouldn't have. It never occurred to me that it really was a religious issue with her…I guess I should go to church more often, she's always on my case about it." She laughed bitterly, "I haven't even been to confession in the better part of 6 months. She'd probably get up out of bed and throttle me if she knew about that!"

Kurt laughed widely now. If he'd had his visual inducer off anyone on the street would have been able to see that he had elongated canines, not to mention a long forked tail. It always struck Michelle as an irony, he looked like a demon-child, but he truly had the soul of an angel. To protect himself from the cruelty of others, he wore the inducer, which gave him the outward appearance of a "normal" teenager. He also wore it to protect his friends, because he knew that they would become targets as well simply because they associated with him. But with the machine on, his secret was safe, and technically, so was he…He looked at her and said, "Well, perhaps Misha, we should keep this secret among ourselves, eh? I would hate to see you get throttled. She might do you some serious physical harm, being that you are in no shape to fight back, don't you think?"

She laughed, too and agreed. She as feeling better than she had in weeks, truth be told, and she mentally kicked herself for waiting so long to see her friends.They had all been so supportive, even Bobby. The first thing that Rogue had done was to very, very carefully give her a hug, something she almost never did due to the harmful nature of her mutant abilities. And the Professor had taken her aside and talked to her for a good half hour. She hadn't had anymore breakdowns like she had with Hank, but she was more willing to talk about things now that she'd gone over it once. Kurt put a comforting hand on her back, and said quietly:

"Does it help you to know, perhaps, the reason behind her decision? I know that it does not lessen the pain, but…"

"But it helps", she added, "I feel…a lot more clear-headed about this than I have in days. And Kurt…I'm sorry for avoiding you, not returning your phone calls, not talking about it when you were only trying to help. I haven't been acting like much of a friend lately…I wouldn't blame you or any of the others if you hated me right now."

"No one blames or hates you, Misha…not me, not Kitty, not Bobby or Rogue…no one. We all understand how hard it is for you to deal with your grandmother's illness…some of us have had relatives or friends die before. Those of us who haven't can certainly empathize with you…we can imagine what it is like. And everyone is familiar with how your particular 'talents' work, that you feel an almost compulsive desire to heal people, that it is like a drug for you. We can all imagine how difficult it would be for a psychic healer to not be able to help. Remember, Misha, we are all in this together, we stick together, we help each other. You try to do it all, but even you cannot stand alone, not with this. Will you come to us from now on, if you are in need?"

She nodded yes, and they both stood up, shivering slightly from the cold. She looked at him, her friend of nearly a year, keeper of her secrets, guardian of her soul, her "cosmic brother" and she said:

"Thank you…you guys probably saved my life today, you know?"

"Ja, well…someone's got to look out for you. So…are we cool? No more hiding from me or anyone else?"

"Deal…although I've gotta tell you, it's not going to be easy. Kind of like trying to teach an old dog new tricks, know what I mean?"

Kurt laughed again and took her arm, then began walking down the sidewalk. 

"Perhaps, liebchen, we should look in the Barnes & Nobles to find you a self-help book on the subject. You could share it with Logan even!"

"What would it be called, Self-Disclosure for Dummies? He'd kick me all the way across the mansion, and he'd smile while he was doing it!"

"You judge him too hard…he is not that mean. But I agree with you, he is not the 'psychobabble' type. Goes against his manly nature, I think…"

"Yeah, I think that's the problem. Too many testosterone cocktails…" She looked at her watch. "We should be getting back to the hospital. They're probably wondering where we are. Besides, I'm freezing my butt off out here."

"Ja, and I am freezing my tail off. Literally."

Laughing, the two teens made their way back to the hospital. Once they reached the inside, however, the laughter stopped. It seemed sacrilegious almost to laugh in a place where people were sick or dying, and they walked up the two flights of stairs in silence. They came out on her grandmother's floor and walked to the main waiting area. There were still nearly a dozen people there, including the Professor, Rogue, Bobby and Hank, who took one look at them and said:

"Cold outside, kids? We were just about ready to send a search party out to find you before you froze."

"Yeah" added Bobby with a slight grin. "You guys could have put me to shame! If you want, the cafeteria makes a pretty good cup of coffee, though I would avoid the food at all costs."

"Will do, Frosty…actually I could use a cup of coffee right now. How about you, Kurt?"

"Nein, thank you anyway. If I drink coffee this late in the day, I will never be able to get to sleep, besides I would like to visit with your grandmother if she is able to take visitors still…"

"Okay…anyone else? No? Well then, I'll be back in a few…"

"Hang on, girl…Ah'll go with ya. Mah legs could do with some exercise. Ah'm getting' all fidgety just sittin' here, an these science-y type guys are borin' me tah pieces with their conversation on molecular structure an' the human gnome… "

"Human genome," corrected Hank.

"Yeah…whatevah'…I'll go with ya', girl, if ya don't mind mah company"

Michelle visibly brightened, and said, "Okay…you can keep me company while I get my caffeine fix." 

The two girls walked down the hall to the stairs and disappeared from view. As soon as they were out of earshot, Bobby said, "Man, Hank…I don't know what you said to her this morning, but whatever it was worked miracles. She hasn't been this talkative in weeks. She actually paid me a compliment today, and then she apologized for being so hard on me all the time. I think you missed your calling. You should've been a shrink, not a doctor."

Hank shrugged the compliment off, but they could tell he was pleased. "Actually, Bobby, I did nothing scientific or psychological. I just listened to her, and supported her when she needed to be, much like you have all done today."

Bobby thought for a moment and said, "Was this sort of like an intervention? You know, like you'd do to someone who was on drugs or suicidal?"

The Professor thought it over, and said, "In many ways, it was. I wish that all of the students were here to lend their support as well, but being that it is the holidays…"

"Kitty told me last night that the first thing she was going to do once she got back to the school was give Misha a big hug. I think that it is the only thing we can do, offer our support when she's feeling down." This was from Kurt, who was standing behind Hank.

Hank spoke up now, "Considering how the grief cycle works, we will have to be supportive. These next few weeks are going to be especially difficult for her to adjust to. The one constant in Michelle's life has been family, and now her family is being taken away from her…"

"We are her family, too, in a way," said Kurt. "A big dysfunctional family, but still…" He looked at his watch and said, "I had better go in to see Saril before visiting hours are up. I wanted to talk to her, if she is able to talk."

"She is conscious and lucid, Kurt, and I think she would welcome a visit from you…"

"Well, then…daylight's wasting", and with a smile and a wave, he walked in to the open door to room 221.

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He walked in, feeling both sad and apprehensive at the same time. Saril was lying in her bed, oxygen mask over her mouth. The heart monitor had been turned off at her request; he knew, and the IV's had been taken out. Everyone knew that she was going to die, from the doctors to the nurses to the people waiting in chairs, and the only thing they could do at this point was observe her wishes. He walked over to the chair by the bedside and sat down, his tail curling invisibly around the chair leg. She turned her head, eyes focusing in the darkened room, lit only by a lamp on the bedside table.

"Hello, Saril…it's me, Kurt Wagner…Misha's friend from school."

She pulled the mask to the side and spoke, her English heavily accented, her voice soft and weak.

"Ahh…I remember you…the boy with the illusion around him. I would tell you that you do not need to hide from me, but I fear that someone would pick a very bad time to walk through the door. Some people…are more understanding than others…I'm sure you know that."

"Ja, I have come up against my fair share of grief from those who 'did not understand' me. They are not among my most cherished memories…"

"Mmmm…I have wondered how God could be so cruel, to grant such a sweet boy such an unseemly form. You are…undeserving of such cruelty."

"He tests us in mysterious ways. He is testing Misha now even as we speak."

"If there is…one thing that I regret…it is that my decision has caused her so…much…pain. I never meant to hurt her, but I have. She does not understand…I love her so much, I would never purposely hurt her."

"She knows, and she loves you, too. And though she does not fully understand at this moment, she will recover. She is very resilient, and she has a lot of people who love her, who want to help her. Do not fear for her, frauline, she is in good hands. Just…conserve your strength…you will need it to make your journey."

"Such a good boy…it does my heart good to know…that she has friends like you and the other young man who visited me earlier…"

"We all love her very much, and we are all looking out for her. Well, I do not wish to tire you, so I think I am going to leave now…is there anything you would like me to do for you before I leave?"

"Yes, boy…would you pray with me…for me?"

He smiled at her gently and smoothed the hair back from her forehead, then got up and shut the door. He sat back down, took the prayer book from the bedside table, and began:

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…"

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"What do you suppose they're doing in there?" asked Bobby as he saw Kurt shut the door.

"Praying," answered the Professor.

"Oh…I guess I won't interrupt. Maybe I'll go down to the cafeteria and look for Rogue and Michelle…"

He walked off in the direction that the girls had taken, and Hank looked at the Professor, one eyebrow raised.

"Methinks that Robert is not too fond of prayer…"

Charles Xavier laughed and said, "Well, Hank, it's not for everyone…"

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"…Amen," Kurt whispered as he looked at the old woman.

"…Amen," she whispered back, closing her eyes and putting the mask back on.

Kurt placed the worn prayer book back on the table, then leaned over the woman and kissed her in the old manner, once on each cheek, then made the sign of the cross. He got up and went to the door, opened it and walked out.

In the bed, the old gypsy woman opened her eyes and watched the boy leave. Then she touched her cheeks with trembling, palsied hands and whispered, "Bless you, child…"

Kurt walked out of the room as Jean, Scott, Rogue, Bobby, and Michelle walked up the hall. He smiled at them, and gave a little wave. 

"Hey you two," he called to Scott and Jean. "How was Columbia?"

"Pretty nice", said Scott. "I know I'm applying for next year. They have a great political science division. What did you think, Jean?"

"I liked it…the campus is nice, the academic programs are wonderful and we'll be able to commute rather than live on campus. I'm not sure what I want to major in, though."

"Hell, Ah don't know what yah so worried about, Red, it ain't like yer flawed or anything. You'll be great at anything you do, as always. "

"I am not perfect, Rogue. I've got plenty of flaws. You make me out to be one of those perfect girls from an on-line fanfic."

"Jeannie Sue," quipped Bobby.

"Mary Grey," said Kurt, grinning.

Despite the fact that Rogue had been with them for almost a year, she still had a lot of friction with Jean. She didn't know what it was that bugged her about the stunning, perfect redhead, whether it was the fact that Scott and Jean were such an obscenely bland couple that it made her want to puke, or the fact that Jean had gotten him in the first place. Point blank: Ms. Psychic Marvel bugged her. Period. End of the matter…

"Well, either way…you'll do great at whatevah ya try. Ah think we should drop the subject now, ya' know, outta respect for Michelle, bein' that her Gramma's so sick an' all…"

Jean's eyebrows shot up, surprised that the Rogue had backed down from a potential fight. Then again, the Professor would call us all out for fighting in a hospital…and it would be disrespectful. Damn, I hate it when she's right!

Michelle wasn't even listening to them. She was standing in the doorway to her Grandmother's room, quietly lost in her own thoughts. She looked at her watch: 4 o'clock p.m. Is it that late already? Her Gram was lying there, still as death, but she wasn't dead yet…soon, though. Blinking back tears, she turned back to the other students.

"Hey, you guys…I'm going to go for a little walk while there's still some light, okay? I'll see you in a little bit." And with that she walked down the hall to the elevator. The others watched her go, slightly apprehensive. Bobby was the first to speak up…

"Um, guys, is this an "I want to be alone" moment or an "I don't want to be alone, I want someone to follow me" moment? I can never tell…"

Jean and the Professor both looked at each other, then at the direction Michelle had taken and ~thought~…

"Follow her," they said at the same time. Bobby sighed and said, "Well, I'll probably undo all of your hard work, but I think it's my turn now. See ya in a bit gang…" And with that, he grabbed his coat and followed the direction Michelle had taken only 2 minutes earlier, secretly wondering what he was going to say to her without looking like a total ass…

Michelle walked in the cold December air, thankful that she had left her coat on. The temperature had dropped a good 5 degrees since she and Kurt had been outside, and the wind had picked up, which made it seem even colder. She walked over to the bench that she and Kurt had sat on earlier, and tried to fight back tears.

Oh girl…you were doing so well. Why have a meltdown now?

She almost started crying when she heard a familiar voice call out, "Girl, it is freezing out here, and I'm Iceman! You know it's gotta be cold if I think it's cold!"

She turned and smiled, "Bobby, what the heck do you think your doing? Coming to my rescue?"

He sat down on the bench beside her, "Yeah, well, someone's got to…what's eating you?"

She sighed, "I don't know…I've been doing pretty well since Hank talked to me earlier today, but I was standing by her door looking in and…"

"And?"

"It hit me that she looks dead already, even though I ~know~ she's not. And it suddenly hit me that I haven't said goodbye…haven't really spent any time with her today. Things have been so busy, and there have been so many people in and out of the room that I kind of let it go…let other people deal with it. I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

Bobby ran a hand through his short brown hair and said, "I don't think so. I mean you've had a lot to deal with these past few days, you know? Now there are other people around to take up the slack. It's got to be nice for your Grandmother to see other people, to know that there are other people who care about her as much as you do. Hell, Kurt actually went in and prayed with her."

Michelle looked at him, and said, "That was really nice of him. My Grandmother always did like Kurt. I think it's the whole gypsy thing…"

"Kurt's a gypsy, too?"

"No…he was raised by a Romany family, Bobby. You know that…you're one of his closest friends!"

"Yeah, but we don't talk about stuff like that. Mostly we just hang out and think of stupid tricks to pull on people. Or we talk about girls, cars, and sports…you know…guy things. Hell, I didn't even know he was Catholic until today! Speaking of which…are you Catholic, too?"

"Eastern Orthodox…well, sort of. I don't really go to church as often as I should. I've kind of slipped since I started going to the Institute."

He shivered from the cold and tightened his coat around his body a bit. "I don't know…I've never been much of a religious guy. Organized religion kind of creeps me out, you know? I mean, how many cults got started because some religious zealot got a bit whacked in the head? It's scary stuff if you think about it…"

She nodded and said, "The thing I always hated was the fact that all of these people who act so pious and pure of soul are really the biggest bigots in the world. They just use their bibles as an excuse for their bigotry and prejudice. Then if they're caught at it they'pray for repentance' to excuse their sin, and bam, they've got their ticket into heaven. It's like anybody can be an asshole, but according to the Bible, if you pray hard enough you're automatically saved. It's bullshit, Bobby, that's what it is…I think that's part of the reason why I haven't been going to church. I don't know…maybe I 'm wrong…maybe I'm just angry and need an excuse to vent

"Either way, you're right. I have to wonder if the parishioners at Kurt's church would accept him if they knew what he really looked like. Would they see the nice, friendly person inside, or would they look the other way and just see the fuzzy blue demon on the outside?"

"I know, I've wondered about that, too. But he still goes every Sunday, despite the fact that his inducer could short out, or someone could bump him. He's a lot more focused in that area than I am…he actually has a good handle on the whole "faith" thing. I guess I'm still trying to figure it all out…"

"Are you going to be okay? I don't mean to be a jerk, but I'm freezing my ass off out here…and I'm Iceman!"

She laughed and said, "Okay, Mr. Freeze, we'll go in before you get a serious case of shrinkage. And Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you…"

"Hey, any time, okay?"

"Okay…hey Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I have a hug?"

"Sure…I'll even promise not to pinch your ass this time."

"Whoa…can I get that in writing?"

They laughed, and Bobby leaned in and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly while she did the same. She buried her head in his jacket, inhaling the scent of leather, and sighed. Bobby dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and said, "It's going to be okay, you know? We're here for you when you need us. And I know I'm not as good at talking and listening as Kurt or Hank or Jean, but I'll do my best if you need me, 'kay?"

"Okay…thank you, Bobby. Oh, and Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"You promised not to pinch my ass, remember?"

"Oh yeah…sorry…old habits die hard, you know?"

"You're excused…this time. Let's go back in, okay?"

"Okay…" he gave her a little squeeze and they began walking back to the building, his arm around her shoulders, and her arm around his back.

"Hey Michelle?"

"Yeah Bobby?"

"Get your hand off my ass…"

"Sorry Drake, paybacks are a bitch…"

"I don't know what's freakier: the fact that you're touching my ass, or the fact that I'm complaining about it…"

"Search me…one of the great mysteries of life, I guess."

"Yep."

"Double yep…"

'Hey Bobby?'

"Yeah?"

"Oh…never mind…"

Visiting hours were soon over, and the team had to leave. Michelle was allowed to stay because she was family, and everyone was saying goodbye. Everyone else, including the Rom, had cleared out already…

"Call us, okay?" said Jean. "It doesn't matter what time it is…someone will come and get you."

"I still don't feel too great about leaving you here," said Scott. "I wish we could stay."

"Sorry Scooter, rules are rules, and I'll be fine. And I promise I'll call you guys okay? Unless it's 4 o'clock in the morning, then I'll wait."

Scott frowned, "Okay…well, I guess we'll be seein' you. And Shelly?"

"Yes, Scott?"

"I'm sorry." He leaned forward and gave her a gentle hug. Jean joined in, too. Before Michelle knew it, someone yelled, "group hug!" and everyone but the Professor and Rogue joined in. After a short while, Michelle gently disengaged herself, and leaned down at the Professor, giving him a hug and saying, "Thank you for your help. It really means a lot to me…"

Rogue stepped up next, tugging on her sleeves and putting up her collar to minimize the chance of exposure. Then she timidly reached out and held her friend, stroking her hair with a gloved hand. She whispered, "Call us, okay, girl? Don't 'cha be breakin' yah promise, ya hear?"

"I won't.Promise."

All of the students as well as their teacher waved goodbye and began walking down the hall toward the elevator, talking among themselves. Michelle knew she could just reach out with her mind and she would know what they were feeling, but she didn't. She was too damn tired…

She walked into the room, and automatically sat in the chair by the bedside table. Her Gram turned to her…

"Misha?"

"Yes, Gram. I'm here with you now."

"Everyone else is gone?"

"Yes, visiting hours are over. Everybody has gone home…"

"It was a good day. Lots of people to see me. I am tired now, though…and I am a bit cold."

"Let me get you a blanket. I think there's an extra in the closet."

"Such a good girl. You'll be okay after I am gone…I know…you will be fine."

Michelle found a blanket in the closet, and brought it over to the bed. She spread it out, making sure to cover her Grandmother's feet, and then sat back down. She reached out and took one of her grandmother's gnarled hands in hers, gently holding it, smoothing the flesh out. After awhile, she said:

"Gram, there's some things I need to say before…you know…it's too late…I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

"For?"

"For questioning your wishes…for not understanding you. It's just that I love you so much…it's hard to let you go…I'm sorry I got angry…I'm just…sorry."

"I know, Misha, I know…I understand and…I am sorry, too. I caused you pain unimaginable, you should not have had to live through this."

Michelle sniffled, the tears she had held back earlier rising in her eyes, "Let it go, Gram…I'll be okay…I just wanted you to know that I love you…I love you so much."

Saril closed her eyes and breathed, "I know…I always knew, even when I was sleeping…Misha?"

"Hmmm?"

"Be a good girl, okay?"

"Okay. Promise."

"Okay…I love you, and I'll see you again someday…"

"Not if I see you first…get some rest, okay?"

"Okay…be a good girl, Misha…I love you."

The old woman closed her eyes and her breathing became rhythmic, though it was weak and thready. Michelle continued to hold her hand, nearly falling into a meditative state. She didn't now how much time had passed, but it was already full dark when she came to full consciousness. She looked at the clock on the wall: 8 o'clock, then at her Grandmother.

Breathe in…breathe out…how much longer?

It wouldn't be long…

Not long now, till the end…

8:15 p.m. One last breath…

Breathe in…breathe out…

I love you, Gram…

I love you, Misha…

~End~

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	6. The End of the Matter, Pt. 06: Epilogue

Disclaimer: you know the drill…same as the other 5 parts. They own them…I own her. End of the matter…

Author's Foreword:

I had intended on ending this story after 5 chapters, and that is still my intention. This will serve as a sort of epilogue…to give some closure to the series, and it is told from Hank's perspective.

I wondered, during the course of this writing, as this story began to unfold, if this was a bit of a self-insertion fic. Well, the character I created isn't much of an avatar, or mighty extension of myself, but this story deals heavily with grief, and that is something I am all too aware of. I watched my father die a horrible death from lung cancer some 2 ½ years ago, and I wish now that I had had someone to talk to about it…guilt is a powerful motivator for self-analysis. I was, however, a stubborn ass, and I thought I could deal with things on my own…let it go, it'll take care of itself, that sort of thing. There are, in retrospect, a lot of things that I wish I had said to him, a lot of things that I was sorry for. One of the things that I wished I had done before my father died was actually tell him that I loved him. I'd like to think that he knew, deep down, but the nagging guilt remains. It fuels my angst, and I tried to bring a bit of that into this story.

I wondered, when I came up with this character, what I would have done if I had had Maya's ability. Different situation, I guess…my Dad fought to live until the end, when he got so sick and tired of the pain that he only wished for peace. Analyzing it now, at this moment, I think I would have saved him. I think he would have wanted to be saved. Now all I have left of him are memories, precious things that they are…

I think I wrote myself into a bit of a corner by setting this mainly in the Evolution verse, but there was a method to my madness. I wanted to write the story without the added pressure of adding the FoH, AoA, Sinister, the Phalanx, the Legacy Virus, not to mention with all of the plot twists (you all can think of a few, I'm sure) that have occurred in the 4 years since I stopped reading the comics (everybody give me a swift cyber-kick in the ass! Now!). Actually, I would love to add the FoH element…they're kind of like the Nazi's of the X-Universe…nasty, bloody, bastards! Maybe I will, if I write another fic…until then, I sincerely hope (for those of you who took the time to read this story, and especially those who reviewed it) that even if there were some possible faults (let's see…I inserted a character, inserted a lot of personal viewpoint, set it outside the comicverse…sort of…need I go on?), that it was, at the very least an interesting premise for a story. That's the one thing we all have in common here, despite differences in gender, race, ethnic background, age, and writing experience, story content and style, among other things…we are all, without a doubt… storytellers. And with that in mind, here is the last (I swear) chapter in the End of the Matter…Arin, February 5th, 2001

The end of the matter: epilogue

Hank McCoy stood at the one of the many windows at the Xavier Institute, and looked outside. It was late February, and a fresh snow had fallen, giving the grounds a pristine purity that you could usually only find on a greeting card or a painting. He looked at the table that he had been sitting at, which held a tall glass of water and his trusty laptop, and back outside at the children playing outdoors. 

They were engaged in a massive snowball fight, and Bobby in particular was taking full advantage of his powers. Hank grinned as he saw Kitty Pryde and Michelle Chen collapse on the ground in a flurry of snow missiles. The girls weren't hurt by any stretch of the means. Actually, they were laughing so hard they were crying. Hank touched the dusty pane of glass, as if to reach out and capture some of that youthful joy, and he watched Michelle and Kitty help each other up.

_It is good to see her smiling…to see her laughing. _He thought, as he stole another glance at "Maya" Chen. The petite, dark haired girl was still grieving, he knew, from her grandmother's death, but she _was_ recovering, however slowly. He turned back toward the waiting laptop and began to write:

# PERSONAL JOURNAL: February 25th…

It has been nearly 2 months since Michelle's grandmother died, and this is the first that I have written about it. Why did I wait so long? It was not out of some deep desire to procrastinate; rather it was out of a need for clarity. The scientist gains knowledge through observation, and I am, without a doubt a man of science…

_ _

_I went to the funeral, of course. Almost all of us did. Logan was, as usual, conspicuously absent, but it was not out of disrespect. He just hates funerals..._

_ _

_The service was beautiful. Michelle gave a touching eulogy, as did Jareth, the Rom baro. There were many people there to pay their respects, and Michelle held up admirably through the whole ordeal. She cried of course, but she was not the only one…_

_ _

_The legal issues are nearly settled. I have the utmost respect for Saril Villovich: she was a brilliant woman. She rewrote her will shortly before her illness, and it made things so much easier for Michelle as far as messy legalities go. She named Charles as Maya's legal guardian until her 18th birthday, so that she would not be placed in foster care, or become a ward of the state. Michelle just recently celebrated her 17th birthday; so legally, Charles will only be playing the part for another year…brilliant woman, I wish I had gotten to know her when I had the chance…_

_ _

_Michelle was worried about her Grandmother's cats, Felix and Oscar, being that they are quite old. However, the landlady, a woman named Nadia Rossini, has taken them in, and they are being well taken care of. Michelle travels to the city to visit them whenever she gets the chance…_

_ _

_She is holding up well, even though she is not so occupied with legal and estate issues now as she was immediately after Saril's death. Having time on her hands has been difficult, but the other students, as well as the adults at the Institute have kept an open and friendly dialogue going with her. She has her good days…and she has her bad days, which is common and a healthy part of the grief process. She has come to me several times now, and talked to me about her grandmother: her life, the things she did, and the stories she told. I have encouraged Michelle to write these stories down, to catalog them, so that they will serve as a history for others…she is thinking about it, mulling the idea over. I suspect that it will serve as an emotional catharsis for her, and will help to give her some closure._

_ _

_As I mentioned before, her 17th birthday was earlier this month. Among the gifts she received was a blank journal from, of all people, Logan. They spoke for a great deal that day and later I saw her in the library, curled up in a chair, writing. She doesn't talk about what she's writing, and I suspect that the purpose is similar to my own journal: to gain clarity of thought, and a measure of peace…_

_ _

_She finished cleaning out her Grandmother's apartment last Saturday…boxed up all of the things that she intended to keep, things that were deeded to her in the will. Among these items were several photo albums, a set of first edition books (apparently Saril Villovich shared her granddaughter's love of reading), and 17 handwritten journals. They are all written in Romany or in Romanian (there's a difference, I've discovered), and Michelle is currently hard at work in the library transcribing them on one of the Institute computers. She has promised to share the details if there is anything worth revealing as far as a historical perspective goes. Some of them are quite old…_

_ _

_I am watching her now, and for once the shadow of grief does not weigh heavily on her face. She is smiling, laughing, acting her age for once…_

_ _

_It is good to see her laugh. I hope to see her smile more often…_

_ _

_I have a song stuck in my head; predictably enough, given my current train of thought, it deals with death. It also deals with hope. Perhaps I will pass it on to Michelle when the moment is right. In particular, one line that strikes my fancy reads something like this:_

_ _

## "How easily I forget,

_How beautiful_

_To see it once again…_

_In my darkest hour_

_I will be freed…"_

_ _

_I will close now, as it is getting late, and I need to catalog the Med Lab. Also…I hear a Twinkie calling my name. Till then…_

End

_ _

The song lyrics written in this epilogue are from the song "Darkest Hour", and are solely the property of Glen Phillips © 2000, Umami Music (ASCAP), and can be found on the CD Abulum, © 2000, People's Musical Recording Cooperative and © 2000, Inhale Music Exhale Entertainment. 

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